


Chemical Reaction

by jadztone



Series: Sherlock Nanowrimo [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, M/M, Pining Sherlock, Resolved Sexual Tension, Set during S1, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: Sherlock realizes why they call sexual attraction "chemistry."





	Chemical Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of stories I wrote for Nanowrimo and posted on my tumbler page, sherlock-nanowrimo.tumblr.com. I was doing a story a day, generally leaving them open-ended if I wanted to add on to the story later in the month. The ones that I did add on to will be posted on AO3 as multiple chapters. They will all be posted as complete, with no expectation that I will ever revisit them. I haven't changed them from the way they were posted on tumblr, they have their issues, but I like to think of them as diamonds in the rough. The stories contain multiple crossovers with other fandoms, and multiple ships.

Sherlock Holmes made a mistake.  A huge one. Monumental.  And he had no idea how to rectify it.  He thought he’d had everything under control when it came to sex, and been rather arrogant about it.  He never understood why everyone around him lacked self-control, when it was quite easy for him to ignore sexual urges and stay focused on work. He’d assumed that his superior intellect had something to do with it.  It turned out it wasn’t so much that he had great self-control.  Rather, this whole time there just hadn’t been anyone that put it to the test.  Until now. Now, he was being tested, and he was failing miserably.  

In his confusion over this new development, he turned to research.  He came to the conclusion that he was a demi-sexual.  It made sense.  In fact, it was very much like chemistry.  Sexual attraction, for him, was a chemical reaction that would only occur under the right conditions.  Because he was constantly keeping people at arm’s length, those conditions never had a chance to form.  Until now.

The conditions in this case were thus:  First you set up a beaker over a low flame – two people living in the same flat, creating a forced intimacy.  Then you add ingredients.  First, the two of them had something in common, they thrived on adventure.  Two, John was an ideal assistant, a doctor who was used to seeing violent death.  Three, John wasn’t put off by Sherlock’s eccentricities or intimidated by his genius. You stir those around for a bit, let them heat up.  Then you add the reagent, a drop at a time. John’s nice smile, making Sherlock laugh.  John complimenting him, calling him brilliant. John being loyal to him, refusing to spy for Mycroft.  John saving his life.    The chemical reaction was complete.  Except now it was threatening to bubble over and make a big mess out of Sherlock’s life.

This was the last thing he needed in his life.  Just as he had told John that night at the restaurant – he was married to his work. Sherlock gave a self-deprecating laugh. There were signs even then – how he hesitated for so long before shutting down what he thought was romantic interest on John’s part.  He’d also been uncharacteristically gentle, claiming his focus on his career as the reason for the rebuff instead of coldly saying he wasn’t interested.  Not that John had been too concerned by Sherlock’s letting him down gently.  He was perfectly fine with it.  “It’s all fine.”  Sherlock’s reaction to this had been another sign.  He’d actually felt piqued!  

Why was John so unconcerned by Sherlock’s rebuff?  Was it because he preferred women?  Sherlock had seen his interaction with Mycroft’s assistant, John definitely found women attractive.  But he could be bisexual.  He’d made a point of telling Sherlock it was fine if he had a boyfriend.  No, that didn’t mean anything.  Being fine with a gay man having a boyfriend wasn’t the same as wanting to be the gay man’s boyfriend.  Ugh!  This was pointless.  Sherlock needed to stop wondering if John was straight or bi.  In fact, he hoped that John was straight.  If John was bi, that would be the equivalent of turning up the flame on that beaker.  Better that he’s straight, then Sherlock wouldn’t be tempted to make a pass at him.

He was getting more and more tempted with each passing day.  The flat was small.  The kitchen even smaller.  Whenever Sherlock was conducting an experiment at the table and John was trying to make a meal at the same time, the number of times they would accidentally bump into each other was 7.6 on average.  Too high of an incidence for Sherlock’s comfort.  Then there were the showers.   Several times he’d come out of the bathroom wearing just a towel and almost collided with John.  John’s eyes would casually assess him, his expression seemingly disinterested.  Except Sherlock couldn’t be sure.  After the fourth time, Sherlock became fed up and went right out and bought several dressing gowns.  He found he actually enjoyed wearing them, even when he wasn’t just out of the shower.  The more layers of clothing between him and John, the better.  

Sherlock drummed his fingers against his chair.  If Mycroft could see him now, he’d practically explode from smugness.  He’d say, “Brother mine, I…”  Sherlock’s musings were interrupted by the sound of the smoke detector going off.  Fuck! While he’d been mentally contemplating his sexual chemical reaction, he’d also been working on a chemical solution in the kitchen and completely forgot about it. He leapt up from his chair and ran to put out the flame that was much higher than prudent.  Then he grabbed some newspaper and waved the smoke away from the detector.  

He heard John behind him, saying in a groggy voice,  “What’s going on?  What’s happening?”

Damnit, he’d woken John up. He’d gone to bed hours ago.  “It’s okay, just the smoke alarm going off.  I’ve almost got it cleared.”  The alarm finally shut up.  Sherlock turned around to face John, and froze when he saw that John was completely naked.  Sherlock dropped the newspaper on the floor and tore off his dressing gown.  “John, put this on.  Right now, please.”

John blinked at him. He was clearly half-asleep.  His hair was sticking out all over, his eyes were heavy-lidded.  He looked incredible.  Sherlock shoved the robe into John’s hands and then backed away.  John put the robe on and belted it.  It was way too big for him.  He paused a moment, as if confused about something, then pulled the edge of the lapel up to his nose and took a whiff.  “Wow, that smells nice.  What soap do you use?”

Sherlock couldn’t take it anymore.  “Would you stop?! Please?!”

John looked at him quizzically.  “Stop what?”

“Stop parading around naked. Stop smelling my dressing gown.  And stop with your…” he waved his hands around his head, “…tousled hair and upturned nose!”

John gave him an incredulous look.  He shook his head, bewildered, licking his lips as he was about to speak.  Sherlock stabbed a finger at him.  “And that!  You need to stop that, too!  It’s making me crazy.”

John was wide awake, now. And he was giving Sherlock a speculative look. He smiled.  Sherlock waved his hand at him as he retreated to the couch.  “No smiling either!”  Sherlock flopped onto the couch and pressed his palms together.  He needed to focus, focus, focus on something important.  A case. Any case.  The woman that had come in earlier today about the missing bracelet. Boring, but maybe it would cool him down.  

As Sherlock tried to focus, he could see out of the corner of his eye John sauntering over.  John sat down at the end of the couch where Sherlock’s feet were, forcing him to move them out of the way.  John deeply inhaled, his expression self-satisfied.  “So…you seem pretty bothered.  Hot and bothered, from the look of it.  What would the wife think?”  John crossed his leg, which made the bottom part of the robe fall open a bit.

Sherlock glared at him. “What wife?”

“Well, you said you’re married to your work.  But it looks to me like you’ve got a wandering eye.  Mr. Holmes.”  His tone, while still amused, had a bit of flirtatiousness as well.

Sherlock sat up.  “Please, John.  This is difficult for me.  I don’t typically get sexual urges this strong.  I’m usually quite able to ignore them and concentrate on solving cases.  I don’t know how to deal with what’s happening to me.  I’m…I’m sorry I yelled.”

John’s expression sobered. “I’m sorry for teasing you.  I guess I was surprised to find out that my attraction to you was reciprocated.”

Sherlock gave him a sharp look.  “Your attraction?”

“Well, yeah.  Didn’t you know?  I mean, that time in the restaurant we were waiting for the murderer. I asked if you had a boyfriend. Tried to make it obvious I was happy when you said no.  I thought you understood what I was doing, because you shut me down, and that was the end of that.”

“But you denied you were making a pass.  You said you weren’t asking and that it was all fine.”

“Well of course I had to say that, to save face and put you at ease.”

Sherlock leaned back, frustrated.  “This is why I can’t be involved with another person.  I don’t understand any of it.  If I try to understand, that’s part of my brain being devoted to something else besides investigative work.  That’s not acceptable.”

John folded his arms. “The alternative is that the yelling escalates as the sexual frustration builds.  I don’t think Mrs. Hudson would appreciate that.”  He paused for a long time.  “Or..I could move out.”

Sherlock whipped his head around.  “No!”

John gave a small smile. “I don’t want to move out, Sherlock. But you need to decide what you want. I know what I want.”  John’s expression made Sherlock inhale sharply. John continued.  “But I won’t lay a hand on you unless it’s exactly what you want.  Okay?”

Sherlock nodded.  “Thank you for your understanding.”  He sighed.  “I’m not used to this.  It may take a while to sort it out in my head.”

John stood.  “Take all the time you need.”  

Sherlock stood as well. John turned and walked in the direction of Sherlock’s bedroom.  “Where are you going?”

John turned.  “To the bathroom.  I’m going to take a shower.”

Sherlock frowned in bewilderment.  “A shower? At this time of night?”

John raised one eyebrow. “A cold one.”  He turned back around and went into the bathroom and closed the door.  

Sherlock stared at the door for a few moments, then strode over and pushed it open.  John was in the midst of untying the knot on the belt. He gave Sherlock an exasperated look. “What do you want now, Sherlock?”

“You.”  Sherlock grasped the belt of the dressing gown and pulled John into his bedroom and slammed the door.


End file.
